poison seeps down this wretched hallway      thick mud-like from broken pipes churning through the walls    flooding over creaking floorboards     over  splintered banisters      through flaked,  chipping asylum-green    painted walls      the back entrance to the building lets out to a dingy, trash-filled parking lot that no one can park in anymore           not if you care about having anything left in the morning besides a metal shell     broken fences worn down backed into and torn out of      let nothing in or out   except the innocent and the brave  scaling the fence   the crazy and empty-eyed wander          those halls mumbling half-truths and fairytales   the next hit   next slam    just a pipeful     hands out for next few dollars to score       right there

down the front concrete steps    they stumbled     some sat nodding        leaning into the broken doorway   or falling into the lip of the side steps      you can watch the world from here   look out through old,  ripped volleyball netting     across sand to a cordoned off poison sea    that once held yelling kids  frolicking in its waters       not today, man        its closed off from here to the other side and down ten miles of coastline      dead sea poisoned sea    murky chemical wasteland    its taken away the shoreline shells    the life    the simplicity of life at the water  on heated days 

its like night and day now       the only distraction is the lit-up ferris wheel hanging sideways off a pier that once held nothing      you can hear pinballs and shouts of the young and the old at the entrance ramp   smell fish frying and hot dogs and greasy fries       remember   jean-paul lived upstairs at the merry-go-round apartments    he used to sneak us in and we’d sit on the brightly painted horses and smoke and smoke and laugh and laugh   at 3am    eat corndogs ’til we puked then smoke some more           we heard he OD’d  one night alone with a needle poking out of his arm       and nobody found him   for close to two weeks until the smell   wafted down  through the walls of the cafe next door         while his cats were yowling at the windows          and something had been nibbling at his lifeless face

which piece of this world do you carry    refusing to set on this broken pavement   and leave         your shoulders are scabbed and bloody from the weight    miles away today but how far from that line  did we stand    hovering       don’t stray long with this memory   but its what we do, remember         we remember          give it a  home  tonite         wrap it up in fucking bright tissue paper       with fancy bows    gifts to give away or dump in tomorrow’s trash    maybe the youthful poets will scoop these packages up and pretend their   tidy little arty worlds have seen      something         besides their empty reflections      we are landlocked here       surrounded by miles of desert land         lapping at the seas edge  but trapped    held down      by the deaths and today’s dying          held down         



About lindalou5150

as exercise or exorcism, i write...for the eyes of others, for my eyes and heart only, for the love and the rage, i release the gamut of tell the truth and say what's often thought but not written...
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